


Back From the Refuge

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Series: Refuge and Remedies [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, The Refuge, good thing he has race, jack needs to get his shit together, poor crutchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:24:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Crutchie is back from the Refuge.He's safe.But he's not okay.





	Back From the Refuge

When Crutchie returns to the square (to much celebration from the other newsies), he seems fine, other than a few remaining bruises and the shadow of a black eye that’s still visible on his face. The strike is over, and Crutchie is finally home.

But he’s not okay.

The lodging house becomes a place of rowdy celebration that night, full of yelling and cheers and laughter. Crutchie welcomes the happy noise, because at the Refuge there was silence, broken only by an insult or slur hurled in his direction, or a guard or Snyder screaming questions at him, questions he didn’t know any of the answers to.

After a couple of hours, Jack makes everyone go to bed, despite much protest from the other newsies. They have to sell in the morning, after all.

While everyone else washes up and gets ready to turn in for the night, Crutchie just sits on his bunk and watches the flurry of activity. He knows he should move, get cleaned up, change his undershirt at least (he can feel the blood on it, some dry, some still wet, rubbing against bruises and sticking uncomfortably to his skin). But every time Crutchie tries to rise, he is stopped by pain in his arms, both his legs (especially the bad one), his chest…every part of his body seems damaged and sore.

One by one, the other newsies settle. A few pat Crutchie’s shoulder or clap him lightly on the back, and Crutchie tries his best not to flinch every time. He knows he shouldn’t be afraid of his friends’ gentle touches, but he is. In the back of his fragile, frayed mind, he fears that a pat could turn into a painful squeeze, or a hand touching his back could turn into a fist, ready to leave more bruises and blood and pain.

The room becomes dark and quiet and soon everyone’s asleep except Crutchie. He just sits there, in too much pain to even lie down. His leg is screaming at him, and he can feel the bruises and abrasions on his chest pull and stretch with every shallow breath. It’s too quiet. Crutchie needs to talk to someone. Jack, maybe? He’s been in the Refuge before, he knows what it’s like.

But what if Jack thinks he’s being silly? Being weak? Crutchie was only in the Refuge for a week…Jack was in there for months.

But he shakes those feelings aside. Where is Jack? He must be on the rooftop, like he always is at this time of night. Crutchie realizes he hasn’t actually seen Jack since he told everyone to go to bed. Is he avoiding him? Why?

Crutchie makes up his mind and stands, biting back a cry of pain when his entire body protests. He slowly makes his way to the window, leaning heavily on his crutch all the while, and eases himself onto the fire escape. He looks up at the ladder, and it seems higher than before. He sighs; he’ll kill himself if he tries to make the climb now.

Crutchie feels hopeless, useless. He can’t even climb a stupid ladder. No wonder he was the only one arrested. He’s too slow, too cumbersome. He’s a burden-

“Crutchie?” That’s Race. The other newsie clambers out onto the fire escape and settles himself next to Crutchie, who has his good leg bent up to his chest and his arms wrapped around it. His bad leg is stretched out on the metal grating of the fire escape, twinging painfully. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“I wanted to talk to Jack,” Crutchie whispers. “But I…I can’t climb the ladder.”

“You can’t climb the-” Race’s expression becomes angry. “How bad did those bastards hurt you?”

Crutchie opens his mouth to answer, to lie and say it wasn’t that bad, that Race doesn’t need to worry about him…and he breaks down, instead. 

He only cried once in the Refuge, after Specs came to see him and promised to deliver his letter to Jack. He cried, and Snyder chose that moment to barge into the room. Snyder saw him crying and had him beaten so badly he couldn’t even come to the window when Jack came the next night. After Jack left, Crutchie refused to let any tears fall. He had to be strong, like he knew Jack was. Like he knew Jack wanted him to be.

Crutchie doesn’t feel strong now. He’s hurt, and he’s exhausted. He jumps at the sound of footsteps, flinches at the slightest touch. He’s weak.

He feels tears streaming down his face but makes no effort to wipe them away. Race wraps an arm around his shoulders, and though Crutchie flinches, he doesn’t pull back. Crutchie cries until he has no tears left, and Race lets him, using his free hand to gently massage Crutchie’s bad leg, trying to get rid of some of the painful cramps.

“I’m sorry,” Crutchie says after a while. Race looks surprised.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry about. That place is hell on earth. No kid deserves that, least of all you.”

“I tried to be strong-”

“Crutchie, you’s one of the strongest people I know. When I got out of the Refuge, I couldn’t even make myself talk for weeks after. You remember?”

Crutchie nods. “But Jack-”

“Jack’s a complicated fella, we both know that. He still gets nightmares about the Refuge.”

“I think he’s avoidin’ me.”

“He feels guilty. He thinks he should’a been able to save ya, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. I think he…he just doesn’t know what to say to ya.”

“I want ‘im to know it’s not his fault. I don’t blame ‘im.”

“I’ll tell ya what.” Race carefully lets go of Crutchie to avoid causing him any more pain. “I’m gonna go up to the roof, knock some sense into his hard head, and get ‘im to come down here.”

“…thanks, Race.” The other newsie nods.

“It’ll be okay, Crutchie…you’ll be okay.”

And Crutchie, for the first time since his arrest, believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: http://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com


End file.
